


kill your darlings

by VITRI0L



Series: when the canon lore suddenly takes a sharp left turn, leaving you heartbroken [3]
Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Dead TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, Mentioned Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Neglect, Oneshot, Sad Parental Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & Phil Watson Friendship (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Wakes & Funerals, i’m on a roll with all this angst today babyy, no beta we die like tommyinnit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:26:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29805630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VITRI0L/pseuds/VITRI0L
Summary: Youkill your darlingswhen you decide to get rid of an unnecessary storyline, character, or sentences in a piece of creative writing—elements you may have worked hard to create but that must be removed.•••Tommy up and fucking dies, leaving Phil to reflect on where everything went wrong.•••“‘Tommy’s gone,’ he breathed out.‘What?’ Phil asked, the word falling out instinctually.“
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Ranboo & Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: when the canon lore suddenly takes a sharp left turn, leaving you heartbroken [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189505
Comments: 12
Kudos: 198





	kill your darlings

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers ahead!**

Phil was cleaning up, washing dishes in the kitchenette of the Arctic cabin. He was exhausted, of course, but there was a residual wave of joy left over. It wove itself into his bones, threading throughout his entire body.

Today was his birthday, after all.

He had a wonderful party, curtsy of his good friend Techno. Though he insisted against it, the piglin hybrid did his best to decorate for the occasion, stating his reasoning as being, “You only turn 33 once.”

Ranboo had been there too, but only for a little while. The meek teen had asked if it was ok for him to go hang out with Tubbo. Phil understood that the kid wanted to give them space. 

It was nice.

 _This_ was nice.

~~He hadn’t felt this kind of happiness since the day he joined the Dream SMP.~~

The heavy wooden door creaked open, and the older man threw a glance over his shoulder.

 _Speak of the devil,_ he thought pleasantly, placing the dish he’d just finished washing in the dish rack.

“Hey, Ranboo,” he said, turning to face the snow covered hybrid, “You look cold, mate, come sit by the fire.”

The lanky teen made no move to do as he asked. Instead, he just stood there, fiddling with his hands like he wasn’t supposed to be there. Phil frowned, feeling a gentle concern for the younger.

“What’s wrong?”

“Is Techno here?” Ranboo asked quietly, looking down to the wooden floor boards.

And sure, he never made eye contact, but this time felt... different.

“Yeah, he’s in the basement, I’m pretty sure,” Phil commented casually, “Why?”

“I have something I need to tell you both. Can you get him?”

The words made Phil uneasy as if there were maggots in his stomach. The uneasiness tugged on his heart, damping his previous happiness as he walked over to the ladder.

“Techno, Ranboo needs to tell us something! C’mere!” he called down.

“K,” the monotone voice called back.

Techno soon joined them, standing in the petite room lined with chests and brewing stands. His pink hair was out of a braid, which was unusual for the hybrid. His ears flicked every few seconds, as if he could feel the tension weighing down on them.

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked, glancing to Phil then to Ranboo.

Phil simply shrugged, doing his best to hide the uneasiness that swamped him.

“I need to say... I’m really sorry,” the teen began, voice wobbling, “I don’t— um, I mean I can’t... _fuck_...”

The swear word fell out of Ranboo’s mouth, sounding too harsh and angry for such a sweet tempered kid like him to use. Phil frowned, worry only growing stronger as he fought the urge to demand answers.

Something was wrong.

“Take a breath, kid,” Techno cut in, doing his best to sound light hearted, “Don’t wanna choke before ya can say whatever ya wanna say.”

Ranboo did, and ran a shaky hand through his black and white hair. Snow glistened gently on him, melted from the heat of the roaring fire in the corner.

“Tommy’s gone,” he breathed out.

“What?” Phil asked, the word falling out instinctually.

_No... that’s not true, there’s no way—_

“Ranboo, that’s not funny,” Techno warned, though his voice didn’t have his usual life-or-death heat to it.

Ranboo drew his shoulders in tighter, hugging himself weakly. Just the action made Phil’s heart stop, a cold grip still the muscle that kept him alive. The teen looked so small and in so much **pain**...

 _Something’s wrong!_ his mind screamed.

“W-what are you saying?” he asked carefully, trying not to stumble over his words, “Like an escaped from prison gone or...”

_Please say yes._

Ranboo shook his head, holding himself tighter. Phil could see the tears behind those heterochromatic eyes even as the hybrid teen bowed his head.

“N-no, like a... he’s _gone_ gone, Phil...”

It felt like the world had stopped spinning. Everything stopped, nothing moved, nothing happened. The man was frozen, rooted to the floor of a cabin that didn’t seem as welcoming as it once did. 

It was so quiet. 

_Tommy’s gone._

The words caused everything to come crashing in on him. All the walls that Phil kept up to protect himself, to protect Techno, they caved easily at those two words. 

Phil felt his entire body shake violently.

_Tommy’s gone._

“Ranboo—“ Techno began.

A loud sniffle interrupted him.

_Tommy’s gone._

“I’m... so so sorry, I— I didn’t want it to be **true**! B-but, Sam was crying when he told us... he sounded so s-sad— I—“

Phil could see Techno hesitate, moving to comfort the crying teen in front of them. He stared right through them, eyes unseeing.

 _Tommy’s_ gone.

Techno wrapped Ranboo in a careful embrace, clearly out of his depth. Phil couldn’t move, mind racing.

“I... I planted flowers,” the teen whispered, head resting against Techno’s shoulder, “By his base... red and white just like he always wore—“

“That’s very kind, Ranboo,” Techno said, voice struggling to remain level.

 _Tommy’s **dead**_.

“Why...?” Phil choked out, lungs on fire as his finally saw the two before him.

Techno pulled away from the teen, who was still hugging himself, to look towards the older man. The blond turned his gaze to the pinkette, ignoring the way his vision swam. 

“Techno, why?”

It was cruel to ask the hybrid for an explanation. 

Phil couldn’t help himself.

“I don’t know, Phil,” his oldest friend responded, voice quiet.

The tears spilled over.

He brought his shaky hands to his face, to hide his sorrow from the strangers around him. 

~~He hadn’t cried in front of people since the day he was born.~~

A warm and calloused hand rested on his shoulder.

_“Happy Birthday, Dad,” Tommy said, barely able to stand still in the threshold of the kitchen._

_Phil was surprised that the little six year older knew his birthday. He’d never mentioned it to the kid in the two years after his adoption, so the blond figured that Wilbur had told him._

_“Thank you, buddy,” he replied genuinely, looking through the chests one final time._

_“When will you be back?”_

_The blond man hummed, standing up and the chest shut softly. He slung his backpack on his front, not willing to struggle to get it over his wings right then._

_“It’ll only be a week, Toms.”_

_“That’s what you always say,” the kid muttered, pouting._

_Phil laughed gently._

_“Pinky promise, ok?” he said, walking to the little kid._

_“Those are unbreakable,” Tommy warned._

_“I know.”_

_They linked pinkies, Tommy’s little finger locking around Phil’s calloused one._

_”Bye bye, Dad! Have fun with Techno!” the blond called as Phil made his way to the cabin’s front door._

_“I will,” he called back, looking back quickly._

_He ignored the scowl and accusatory eyes of his elder son, who sat on the stair steps. Phil would deal with Wilbur’s loss of faith later._

_He closed the door behind him with a sturdy_ thud.

That was the last memory Phil had of spending his birthday with his boys. 

_Oh..._

A broken and sorrowful scream escaped the older man’s throat, filling the cabin with the most human sound that there was.

The sound of pain.

•••

Phil sat with Techno by his side, facing the gravestone. He felt unreasonable numb as he looked upon the smooth stone, the marker of remembrance for his youngest son.

Ranboo sat somewhere, probably stuck to Tubbo like glue. They were both dealing with Tommy’s death in their own ways, barely leaving each other’s side as if they feared the other one would be lost forever if they did.

Phil watched as Puffy and Sam dug the grave themselves, pain and desperation clear in the way they stuck the dirt with their shovels. 

_I should be the one doing that_ , a part of him said.

 _I’m not strong enough_ , the other part answered.

It was true.

He didn’t deserve to be a part of his son’s final moments. 

~~Phil wasn’t there for Tommy’s life, there was no way he could start being there in death. That would be too cruel.~~

Techno was stiff beside the blond, as distraught as Phil. Though, the pinkette refused to let other’s see his emotions. The older man could see it in the careful way his friend looked to him every now and again, like he was unsure if Phil was still there.

Phil didn’t want to be there.

Especially when he saw the now dirty gravediggers bring in the casket.

The casket that held his son.

It was closed.

Tears ran down his face at the sight and the numbness grew stronger.

 _He was beaten so savagely that he needed a closed casket,_ a small voice said sorrowfully, _Dream beat the life out of Tommy._

_I know._

_He was supposed to be the light of our life_ , the voice continued lamenting, _How could that light be snuffed out so easily?_

_Just like Wilbur. It’s so much easier than it sounds, isn’t it?_

_I suppose you’re right..._

Techno’s hand came to rest on his knee, steadying and comforting. A reminder.

Phil knew now that the hybrid could never replace his sons. No matter how many adventures he and Techno ran away on, there was always going to be a hole in his heart.

Wilbur’s death had taken so much of the blond man’s heart. When the brunet boy laid in his hands, dying, Phil felt pieces of his heart die too.

Tommy had taken the rest of the man’s heart with him.

Phil was empty now.

Throughout the funeral, Sam and Puffy did everything themselves. They buried Tommy in the cold ground, spoke words full of love and honour for him and led them in the prayer to the Church of Prime. The two were young, a lot younger than Phil, but the blond couldn’t help but compare himself.

 _They actually care_ , a poisonous voice hissed.

Bad, Ant and Punz snickered and giggled silently throughout the whole ceremony. Phil wondered vaguely if he should tell them to shut the fuck up. And by the way that Techno’s hand gripped his knee, the hybrid was clearly wondering the same thing.

He didn’t, though.

He half expected Tommy to claw his way from the grave, cursing and spitting at the three to piss them off so he could have his funeral in peace.

But, Tommy never appeared.

Quackity and Puffy forced them out eventually.

Phil zoned out, the world around him feeling grayed and dull. There was no life, nothing good, nothing sacred. Thoughts such as those were dangerous, but he found that he didn’t care.

He was grieving.

When Wilbur died, there had been tears and screams of agony. Sadness so furious that he was sure the emotion would kill him.

When Tommy died, everything faded away. No screaming, no undeniable physical pain. Just the simple truth that the lively blond teen was no longer alive.

 _He should have gone out with a bang,_ Phil found himself thinking remorsefully.

Tommy was the hero.

Yet, he died alone, trapped with the worst man on this godforsaken server.

“—il? Phil, come on, man... it’s getting late.”

Phil looked up to see Techno standing before him, frowning lightly. The sky behind him was pinkish, the sun setting down in the ravine.

He didn’t know how long ago the funeral ended.

He didn’t care.

Phil just nodded and stood up robotically, brushing of no existant dust from his black robe. The seats the were previously full were no vacant, reflecting the man’s own emotions back to him.

He looked to the stone one last time...

His gaze fell upon a small figure laying behind the mound in front of the grave. They were curled so tightly, laying on their side beside the bouquets of flowers. 

Phil said nothing as he walked over softly. Crouching, he ran an hand through the unruly brown hair.

Tubbo unconsciously leaned into the touch, whimpering softly.

His eyes were shut as he slept beside his friend.

The older man was sure his heart would have broken for the boy, if there was something still left.

He carefully took his son’s best friend into his embrace, holding the teen to his chest. 

“Tommy...” Tubbo whispered, burying his face into Phil’s green shirt.

 _He’s all that’s left,_ something told him, _Keep him close._

Phil, for the first time in months, let his wings unfold. The bones were stiff from the lack of use, yet the feathers that were still there were still kept. As broken as they were, his wings were his source of pride in this desolate world.

Phil brought them around, wrapping the two of them in another embrace. He hated seeing where his wings were broken, feathers singed by explosions of TNT. 

He just ducked his head down to look at the youth that he held close.

 _This server breaks everything it touches_ , he mused, feeling an unwanted pressure behind his eyes, _And I was complicit in that._

_No longer, though._

Phil wrapped his wings closer, stray tears falling into Tubbo’s dark hair.

“For Wilbur,” he whispered gently, promising it to the dying sun before him, to the dead son beside him and to the broken kid he held.

“And, for Tommy.”

**Author's Note:**

> i _need_ sad c!phil, please... if he just shrugs this shit off in canon, i will cry. i will do it, don’t test me, lore.


End file.
